


Not Cut Out For Civilian Life

by very_vary



Series: Oxton -- A Bunch of Tracer Oneshots [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Lena the helpless lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_vary/pseuds/very_vary
Summary: (Oneshot) Emily tells Lena that maybe it's about time to get a real job. Lena discovers interviews are not as simple as they seem.





	Not Cut Out For Civilian Life

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the quality of this, 90% of it was written at 11:00pm or later. General work-related shenanigans. Poor Lena.

Lena Oxton had learned a grand total of four (4) things today in her attempt to be 'normal.'

One: Blinking into the lobby of your potential workplace in order to not show up late was not considered proper interview etiquette. Two: A chronal accelerator didn't quite make the cut on the dress code. Three: She was not good with listening to authority. (Like she didn't already know that.) Four: Maybe she wasn't cut out for civilian life. 

The day was off to a wild start from the beginning. Nothing like a blaring alarm when you're used to sleeping in to start your day, yeah? It took some serious coercion from her girlfriend to even get her sorry arse out of bed, and that came with semi-serious threats to life, limb, makeout sessions, and access to coffee. Fuckin' hell. Coffee that morning took too long, she spent wayyyy too much time deciding on what to wear, and she was out the door a whopping ten minutes later than she anticipated being, looking a little disheveled but otherwise energetic. She managed to catch a lift with a pal but still ended up blinking into and skidding to a stop in the atrium of the office building she was supposed to be interviewing at. The checklist of learning opportunities and terrible moments for the day began. She realized her first mistake when the sound of her new dress shoes squeaking against the polished marble floor drew the attention of everyone near, including the receptionist and several official-looking people loitering in the lobby. She chuckled nervously in the silence and straightened out her blazer, hoping her hair was still tidy. She reminded herself she was approaching her thirties at breakneck speed (even if she wasn't entirely sure if she was actually aging physically at all) and she didn't have a career yet, even if it was just at a cubicle farm, and that she needed to get it together or Emily might kick her to the curb eventually. Who wants a deadbeat girlfriend, right? 

She tried to stride to the receptionist oozing confidence, but she learned her second problem: the accelerator. Even though she had specifically chosen the outfit to cover it, the soft blue light still made it through her white shirt, and she internally cursed the world as she tried to ignore the stares. Because she was in a place in life where she had something on her chest more distracting than a pair of knockers to grown and young men. She wasn't sure if that was funny, comforting, or somewhat depressing. 

She got directions from a puzzled receptionist and followed the plain white hallways to the plain gray elevator and she was just struck with how bland everything was. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but god, she already ached to leave and she didn't even have the job yet. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, with only a high school diploma. She was surprised she had gotten an interview in the first place and idly wondered if her boss was a fan of Tracer. Wasn't worth the risk of her busting into his office yelling her catchphrase, though it would liven up the place and thus was excruciatingly tempting. The doors opened with a ding and she stepped out onto the third floor, her heart sinking even more at the sight of desk after identical desk, with seemingly bored or just plain miserable accountants typing away around piles of paperwork. She wanted to scream "Stick it to the man!" or something along those lines and usher them all out in workplace rebellion but, again, probably not worth the risk. Also, incredibly disrespectful to the person she was currently trying to impress. 

Right, she was gonna have a boss again. God knows how that was going to go. Sure, she had a sense of discipline and respect for figures above her. She was in the military! But she did tend to treat the rules more like guidelines... A lot. She was perfectly fine with saluting a commander and being all official-ish, but deadlines always seemed flexible in her mind, and her missions always came with... detours. When you can manipulate your own timeline, it really makes you think up some hippie stuff about time being a human construct and things like that. Jesse thought she had lost her marbles after that little confession, but she managed to make herself seem less like the plane crash had burned out some brain cells after some convincing. She hoped. 

She made it to an office that actually had windows and an official-looking nameplate that had her (hopefully) new boss's name on it, and she steeled herself for a moment, checked the time, cursed quietly, and fixed her hair before knocking and waiting to be let in. 

The balding, middle-aged man she was going to end up working for did not seem like a Tracer fan. He did not seem friendly, open, or the type to smile... Ever. The place and him were a perfect match. His mahogany desk was mostly empty except for a picture frame and a half-wilted pink carnation. She stood in the doorway awkwardly once he opened the door and accepted her apology for being late, not wanting to sit down without being invited. "I, uh, like your flower." She blurted out. She had faced human extinction at the hands of omnics before, and yet this interview was up there on the list of most horrible situations she had ever been unlucky enough to end up in. The man raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to sit, and she did as she was told, grinning widely like she usually did when she felt a little like she was dying inside as she shook his hand across the desk and began the interview. 

He spoke in a monotone and it took all of Lena's willpower not to yawn or flat-out fall asleep. Damn getting up early. Once, she did zone out completely, and let herself be visibly startled when he cleared his throat. Oh, dear. She didn't nod off, but tried to focus after that, getting caught in many different sticky situations after that point. She knew pretty much nothing specific about the company, and so when he asked for her questions, she couldn't deliver. He said she'd get 30 minutes for lunch and she accidentally blurted out that it was 'absolutely ridiculous' before she could stop herself. She considered just throwing herself out of his office window right then and there, or bashing her head open on the desk. 

As a whole, the interview could be rated as downright disastrous, and she walked out of the room with a grin on her face and complete confidence in the fact that she was never going to get that job. Ever. She was left to take the metro home and to be with her own thoughts, which was dangerous, but she kept herself busy with a Rubik's Cube on the way back to her apartment, trying to ignore those silly insecurities in the back of her mind. Sure, they weren't all stupid. She was legitimately afraid she was going to return home to a girlfriend that would promptly throw her things out on the lawn for failing, though she hoped she knew Emily better than to think something like that. But... did it even matter? She wasn't destined for a normal life. She literally wasn't designed for it-- her accelerator was designed for battle. Her phone pinged, and she checked her messages to spot a friendly text from Emily asking how the interview went. Lena wasn't sure how to sum up her failure, but she'd tell her later.

Plus, it's not like it mattered. She had a new interview tomorrow, and a jacket that might cover up the accelerator. She had her learning experience, and she'd keep learning and fighting until she found a company that would take her. One day she'd find one. She hoped.

For now, though, she missed her stop in her inspirational inner monologuing. Late to work, late getting home.

Aw, bollocks. Here we go again.


End file.
